This, my friends, was my second entry to the aforementioned competition:

The courtroom’s doors opened and the case began. The prosecutor brought his herd of witnesses, who all swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help them God, pointed their finger at the defendant, told their stories and left haughtily. The prosecution rested.

‘The defense calls its first witness’ said the defense lawyer, ‘the defendant himself.’

The defendant took the oath before sitting down.

‘Are you Mr. Klaveiser, a noted book critic?’

‘Yes sir, I am.’

‘What were you doing on Hugh Street on the 19^th of May, last Wednesday?’

‘I had gone to the local book shop to buy a few books.’

‘Can you state which books, sir?’

‘Objection, your Honor! This line of questioning is immaterial and irrelevant’ spat the prosecutor, ‘Why not ask him whether he saw any pigeons in the square that day.’ The angry crowd tittered at this.

‘Mr. Defense Attorney,’ ordered the judge, ‘please direct your questions in a proper manner. Sustained!’

‘Yes, you Honor. Mr. Klaveiser, did you find the need to go to the bookshop named A New Page?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Okay, can you tell us what happened inside?’

‘The owner told me this about Alec Mord’s An Orange…’

‘Objection, your Honor! Hearsay’ interrupted the prosecutor, successfully.

‘Okay, your Honor’ said the Defense Attorney ‘I will rephrase my question. Did you kill the bookshop owner that evening, Mr. Klaveiser?’

The courtroom gasped. The judge slowly removed his spectacles, cleaned them and put them back on. The prosecutor, who didn’t expect such a question, smiled with glee. Journalists were scratching away on their pads. Lady Justice would have removed the blindfold to see what the silence was all about. A church bell tolled far away.

‘I did’ whispered Mr. Klaveiser.

‘Sir,’ said the prosecutor, on his feet, ‘I move for an immediate sentencing of the accused under the grounds that he confessed.’

‘Mr. Prosecutor, I want to know the motive behind the killing, if there is one’ said the judge, looking at the accused.

‘Now, Mr. Klaveiser,’ asked the judge, ‘Why did you kill him?’

‘You Honor, have you read any mystery novels?’

‘Mr. Klaveiser, this isn’t right time for such rhetoric, but to answer your question, yes.’

‘Have you, your Honor, felt that tingling sense of anticipation as you read the story?’ asked the accused, ‘have you literally smelt the blood as it dripped through the victim’s body? Did you ever find tears welling up and bile rushing up your throat because the murderer went scot free? Did you cry tears of joy for that poor, beautiful woman who is off the list of suspects? Didn’t you want to kill the detective for missing the murderer within inches every damn time?’

‘Mr. Klaveiser, is this of any relevancy?’

‘Please answer me, your Honor.’

‘Yes.’

‘Were there times,’ asked the accused ‘when you wanted to move just two pages ahead to see who the culprit was? Weren’t you always sure of one person, that one person, who would not have anything to do with it? Didn’t you feel the book go hot in your hands, till you could handle it no more? Didn’t you feel that the author deserved a million claps and a thousand more pats on his/her back?’

‘Yes indeed!’ affirmed the judge, frowning down upon the court stenographer and clerk who were both nodding their heads vigorously.

‘What, do you think, is the essence of any mystery novel?’

‘Simply put, Mr. Klaveiser, a mystery novel is one where you want the story to finish, and not finish. But when it’s done, the confluence of grief, joy and intellectual thought is akin to finding a deep, treacherous river across which there’s a shack, after days of thirsty search for civilization.’

‘Then, your Honor, how would you feel if you knew that Lady Rosaline is the murderer in the just released An Orange Leaf by Alec Mord?’

‘You son of a bitch!’ screamed the judge, jumping up from his chair ‘I bought that book just yesterday, you bastard!’ Half the courtroom rose and pelted shoes at the accused crying ‘How dare you!’

In the brief lull that followed, a smiling Defense Attorney got up and said ‘The Defense rests, Milord.’